


(I'll be the one) you won't forget

by banshee_in_the_dark



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Sex Shop, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, First Meeting, Humor, Nipple Play, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Romance, Sex Toys, Shameless Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-18
Updated: 2014-09-22
Packaged: 2018-02-17 20:48:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,591
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2322683
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/banshee_in_the_dark/pseuds/banshee_in_the_dark
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sex-Shop!AU In which Stiles is the aggravatingly cute owner of Beacon Hills’ one and only sex shop and Lydia would rather die than being seen in such a place.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Would you believe me if I told you this is based on a true story?

Lydia tap-tap-tapped her fingers on the steering wheel of her Camry to an internal rhythm, green eyes trained on the discreet storefront across the street. It wasn’t exactly a secret what kind of items could be purchased at ‘Extasy’ – its opening had caused a mighty stir among the townsfolk and many had vehemently declared, or hoped more likely, that they wouldn’t stay in business long. Beacon Hills was a small town after all and its residents were understandably reluctant to accept a sex shop being opened right on main street smack between Lucy’s Bakery and the town’s only high end boutique.

With a sigh, she tore her gaze away from the store and checked her phone for what felt like the hundredth time in the past hour. She hadn’t seen anyone come in or out of the store since she parked and it didn’t look like there were any prospective customers around the area. She snorted under her breath, an unladylike habit her mother had tirelessly tried to break her out of since her early teens.  _Who would want to be sighted strolling into a sex shop in broad daylight?_ Not her, that was for sure.

Yet here she was.

A quick check on her rearview mirror confirmed that her makeup was flawless as ever, but she applied another coat of blood red lipstick just in case. She could stand before a courtroom and tear through her opponent’s case with ease, but the thought of abandoning the blissful anonymity of her car, crossing the street and walking through the doors of the store made her inexplicably nervous. It couldn’t be avoided though. This was business and her client counted on her to sort out this matter professionally and most importantly, discreetly.

Her Louboutins clicked on the pavement as she strode the short distance to the store. She’d had an early deposition that morning and had been stuck in court since then. Her afternoon was full so she hadn’t had time to go home and change before coming here. Plain jeans and sneakers and perhaps a baseball hat and sunglasses would’ve been far more appropriate to remain undetected by any curious eyes.  

In her black one button jacket and pencil skirt little number she was sure to turn heads and catch the attention of everyone who laid eyes on her, which was precisely why she wore such outfits regularly. She knew she looked fabulous and put a lot of effort and dedication to that end, that was no crime. She found that her counterparts were more likely to underestimate her on trial if she looked like she’d just got off the runway, therefore making her job of decimating their case particularly satisfying. Also males tended to be distracted by her fitted silhouette and the teasing but ever decent plunge of her necklines and really she couldn’t be faulted if she used that to her advantage. Nature had blessed her with a privileged intellect and a sexy body. She knew how to use both.

The bell rang softly when she pushed the door open but to her hypersensitive ears (which was more due to her paranoia of being seen in such a place than the iced double shot espresso she picked up before her impromptu surveillance expedition) but to her it sounded like nothing short of thunder announcing her descent to debauchery.

She steadfastly ignored her surroundings, everything blending to an unrecognizable blur as she tunnel-visioned her way straight to the front desk where a man was giddily typing away on a laptop and sweeping several different sized brown boxes with a hand-held scanner.

Being inside the shop was eerily uncomfortable. It used to be an ice-cream shop and she’d spent many a Sunday afternoon here with her grandmother when she was a child and she had frequently gone on ‘emergency’ late night chocolate chip mint runs with her best friend Allison before old Mr. Jenner decided to close and sell the shop.

Where once the walls had been clear and booths and little tables abounded to offer a comfortable environment, now there were  _things_  mounted on the walls she dared not look at.

“Hello. How can I help you?” the man behind the counter offered her a smile.

Lydia tightly returned the smile, dropping her purse on the glass counter, subtly studying Mr. Stilinski with a critical eye. She noticed with a good measure of surprise that he was actually very cute with brown, messy hair effortlessly spiking in all directions, amber eyes that were just  _unfair_ , broad shoulders and the kind of muscular build that denoted that he put his body to work but probably didn’t spend much time in the gym to develop an aesthetically beefier look. She’d had many boyfriends in the past who followed strict workout regimens that resulted in defined abs and arms but who couldn’t even change a tire without a good deal of short-breathed grumbling.

Her eyes detected a ball chain around his neck and followed the length to a set of dog tags – army? Navy perhaps? She’d had a very clear image of what a sex shop entrepreneur would look like – she’d expected a single man in his mid to late forties with thinning hair, oily skin and a porn-stash. A young veteran who looked like someone she’d actually be thrilled to be set up with for a blind date by her friends was quite far from that seedy picture.

“My name is Lydia Martin,” she extracted a business card from the ever convenient hidden pocket in her skirt and handed it to him. His eyebrows shot up and the corners of his mouth curled up with amusement. “I’m here on behalf of Mr. Ivo Jenner.” She looked at him up and down. “Could I speak to the owner please?” Mr. Jenner had insisted that the owner didn’t have any employees but she didn’t want to make a fool of herself if that information was incorrect and the cute guy before her wasn’t, in fact, Mr. Stilinski.

“You’re looking at him,” he answered, still fascinated with the card. “Serious question though,” he tore his eyes from the little card and smirked at her. “Are you one of the Martin, Martin & Martin’s on this thing?”

She pursed her lips and stared at him levelly, not appreciating his amusement. “What do you think?” she clicked her tongue. Never mind that  _no_ , she actually wasn’t one of those Martins. That honor belonged to her grandmother, father and mother. He didn’t need to know that. “Back to the matter at hand, Mr. Jenner informed me that documents of a delicate nature were left forgotten in the building before you bought it and that you contacted him about them.”

Mr. Stilinski nodded, a half smirk playing on his lips. “Oh yeah. The nudes.”

“Pardon?” she sputtered.

“Nudes. Erotic photographs. I have four boxes upstairs full with years’ worth of vintage homemade erotica,” he explained casually.

“Hum,” Lydia swallowed. Mr. Jenner had been particularly reticent to tell her what was the nature of the so called documents he needed her to retrieve. Now she could see why.

She counted to ten and back. To think she’d sacrificed her lunch hour for  _this,_  to reclaim pornography for an old man. She cursed long and hard inwardly. Mr. Jenner could expect her service fee to be exponentially larger after this.

“Alright,” she finally said, mouth dry and having trouble to meet his eyes. “Be that as it may, my client would like to have them back with him and is prepared to generously compensate you for your trouble Mr. Stilinski.”

“And I’m prepared to decline that. There’s no need,” he lowered his elbows to the counter, bringing their faces at the same level. “The photos are his, you can take them.”

“But –”

“Nope.”

“Mr. Stilinski – ”

“Not changing my mind sorry,” he didn’t sound the least bit sorry to her ears. His grin blinded her. He was a bit of a jerk, of that she had little doubt, but an aggravatingly cute one. “You can call me Stiles.”

“Stiles,” she quirked her perfectly arched eyebrow up. “I’m under strict orders to not leave this store until you are properly compensated.”

Aaaaaaand that came out outrageously flirty. It sounded far more professional on her head. Damn it. This is  _not_  how she conducts negotiations.

Stiles pursed his lips in a failing attempt to hold back a smile. “Okay. I’m sure we can work something out,” he said suggestively. “Why don’t I go find those boxes? You’re welcome to look around. Maybe you’ll find something you like.”

Lydia fought the urge to glare at his retreating back.  _As if_  she’d be caught dead with any of these items in her possession.

Soon curiosity got the best of her and her eyes wandered around the store. She scoffed at the wall of dildos. Their bright colors and inaccurate sizes held no appeal to her whatsoever. Same with the DVD section. She’d tried watching porn with her boyfriend back in college but while he became easily aroused Lydia hadn’t been stirred in the least.

Vibrators and endless options of lube came next, but she could feel the beginning of a headache as she tried to figure out how some of those apparatus worked. Some were very small and promised discreet yet fulfilling pleasure, while others looked like implements of torture.

She glanced past the racks of costumes. The closest she’d come to role playing was two years ago at a Halloween party were she’d gotten embarrassingly drunk and had a one night stand with her friend Kira’s second cousin. She’d had to burn her Strawberry Shortcake costume after that night.

A bookshelf caught her interest, her feet taking her there automatically. An assortment of erotic fiction novels and sexual health books lined the shelves. Sneaking a glance to the back door and checking that Stiles still was nowhere to be seen, Lydia pulled a volume free and opened it with clammy fingers.

‘Getting Off – A Woman’s Guide To Masturbation.’

Her eyes widened comically. The book was exactly what the title advance, a step-by-step illustrated guide to improve one’s technique. She found the shower chapter particularly instructive. Sentences penetrated her brain and her ever analytic mind was effortlessly committing them to memory. She had no doubt that the next time she found herself in need of a little Lydia time, these instructions would be appreciated.

She put the book back and stepped away before she got caught holding even the smallest flicker of interest for such a book. She went back to her spot before the counter to wait patiently.

Lydia was tapping her fingers on the glass – heh so much for patience – when the contents beneath it caught her eye. She gasped, admiring the careful detail of the jewelry. Each piece was different from the next, rows upon rows of strange earrings and necklaces the like of which she’d never seen before.

“Like what you see?”

“Yes,” she admitted distractedly. Too late, she snapped out of it and raised her eyes only to find Stiles with his arms crossed over his chest leaning against the doorframe. She warmed under his gaze. “I didn’t know you sold jewelry as well.”

He nodded, pushed away from the doorframe and walked around the counter to stand at her side. “This is special jewelry. I make them myself,” he grinned, wiggling his long fingers before him.

“You’re very talented,” Lydia smiled honestly. She cocked her head to the side, studying a pair of earrings in particular. Three strands of gold beads dangled from a teardrop shaped flexible thread with a sparkling pear red crystal at the end. “Those are lovely,” she pointed them out. “I can’t quite figure out the clasp though.”

Stiles cleared his throat. Lydia was surprised to see a blush extend on his cheeks. “Those are um –” he chuckled uncomfortably and shot her a sheepish look. “That’s a nipple noose set.”

Lydia blinked.

“You ah – slip the nipple through the noose and tighten it by adjusting the gold beads,” he explained, hands flailing wildly at his sides.

“Oh,” Lydia’s gaze darted back to glass counter. She frowned.  _Way to go, Martin, you couldn’t be more idiotic if you tried._

“If you want to check them out I can – ”

“That won’t be necessary,” she quickly declined, hoping her smile looked as relaxed and confident as she  _didn’t_  feel right now. “But I appreciate it.”

Stiles nodded, his lips pressed on a tight line and his gaze avoiding hers. He turned his back on her and rounded the counter. He crouched, momentarily out of her sight and then reappeared with a cardboard box. He deposited on the counter, fingers tirelessly tapping the lid. “I’ve got three more down here,” he said. “Do you want to check if everything’s there?”

She wouldn’t even know if something was missing, and to be honest she wasn’t up for perusing piles of naked pictures of an old couple she knew personally. “I’ll take your word for it,” she smiled.

“’Kay,” Stiles bit his lip, the depths of his amber eyes hypnotizing her. “If Ivo ever thinks about selling some of these would you tell him to contact me? The artist is really talented.”

Lydia grimaced. “That would be the late Mrs. Jenner. Photography was something of a hobby of hers. We could always see her mumbling to herself and snapping pictures around town. She made the most mundane things look special.”

“I bet no one thought her interest extended to photographing elaborately erotic scenarios with her husband,” Stiles smirked.

“You’d win that bet.”

They laughed together and the awkwardness of moments before evaporated easily.

“I should get going,” Lydia said apologetically, surprised by the pang of actual sadness at the thought of leaving. She might not cross paths with him ever again and the thought made her inexplicably unhappy.

“I’ll help you get these to your car.”

She took one of the boxes. He insisted he could carry all of them, that he didn’t mind making two trips, so naturally a brief argument ensued, which she unanimously terminated by turning on her heels and hauling the box across the street. He followed soon after.

After putting the boxes on the trunk of her car, Lydia proudly looked at her handiwork. Stiles had arched an eyebrow skeptically and declared there was no way in hell the boxes would fit in there, but he’d underestimated her superior organizational skills. Three boxes were already comfortably located and there was enough room for the fourth one Stiles was currently carrying over the street.

With a start she noticed her purse sitting innocently over said box. She hadn’t even realized she’d forgotten it inside.

“Thank you,” she took the purse while he sat the box on the free space and carefully slammed the trunk closed.

Lydia ignored the curious looks people passing by were giving them, fascinated by the realization that Stiles Stilinski was the perfect height to hold her – she wouldn’t suffocate against his chest or awkwardly lean her head against his, but could rest her cheek on his shoulder and bury her nose in his neck.

“It was a pleasure to meet you Ms. Martin,” he held out his hand and Lydia curled her fingers around it and shook it firmly like her father taught her.

She smiled shyly, holding his hand for a fraction of a second longer than what was proper. “Lydia.”

His smirk sent the army of butterflies she’d been studiously ignoring for the past hour into a frenzy. “Lydia.”

She climbed behind the wheel and waved him goodbye as she drove away.

It wasn’t until later that afternoon that she was fishing for her mascara on her purse that she found a copy of ‘Getting Off – A Woman’s Guide To Masturbation’ and a small red envelope with the nipple noose set she’d liked so much hidden inside it with a note in sprawled handwriting.

_They’d look beautiful on you. I could show you._


	2. II

"… And that’s when I found the book and  _those_  things in my purse,” Lydia said, scrutinizing the fresh polish the technician had just finished applying on her fingernails. “Is this color too orange-y? It looks orange-y to me.”

Allison rolled her eyes, mocking her very serious concern. The color orange brought up bad memories for Lydia. She spent the majority of her grade school years being called a carrot head, it was traumatic okay? She did not want to be associated with that god-awful color. “It’s coral actually, and it looks fine. Was he cute?”

"Was who cute?" Lydia hummed, strumming her fingers over the armrest of her plush seat.

Her friend gave her a look she was very familiar with, indicating she wasn’t buying her innocent act in the least. Lydia blamed that on her keen journalist instincts. She was a fabulous liar, her job depended on it.

"He’s passable," she shrugged daintily. 

"Passable?" Allison chuckled. "Oh wow, you must really like him."

"I do not!" Lydia gasped, outraged by the notion.

"Last time I tried to set you up –"

"With Greenberg and I still haven’t forgiven you for that."

" – you didn’t mince you words to tell me exactly how unacceptable you found him," she continued as if Lydia hadn’t interrupted her.

She gave her friend a level stare. "It was _Greenberg_." Enough was said.

"And the same thing happened with Kira’s friend – "

"Aiden could barely stream thee words together that weren’t a vile curse and detailed descriptions of his workout regime."

"But you disliked him the moment you decided his forehead was disproportionate with the rest of his face," Allison accused, smirking.

"I did not!" Lydia cried with little conviction. “I dated Aiden for a long time.”

“Two weeks,” Allison cut in.

“But we went on numerous dates and do I need to remind you that I called it off after we got a flat tire and I had to change it myself while he played angry birds on his phone? My lace-up booties were ruined that day,” she reminded Allison heatedly. “They were very important to me.”

They held each other’s gaze for a moment too long and then both dissolved into hysterical laughter.

“Look, I’m not saying it’s a bad thing,” Allison said, breathing through the last of her chuckles. “But you _are_ picky.”

“I have standards,” Lydia clarified.

“And that’s wonderful,” Allison assured her, smiling as she curled her warm hand around Lydia’s wrist comfortingly. “But you haven’t been out there, not really, since Jackson,” she said tactfully.

Lydia swallowed. She didn’t like spending much time thinking about her cheating ex-fiancé or how messed up he’d left her.

“Not even Deputy Pretty Eyes got you to break out of your shell.”

Lydia pursed her lips. “He was too nice.”

“You see what I mean?” Allison smiled. Lydia conceded she was right by rolling her eyes and throwing a discarded ball of cotton at her friend. “Look, this guy is obviously interested in you or he wouldn’t have given you those gifts, so if you like him you should go for it. I’m not saying marry the guy,” out of the corner of her eye, she saw Allison absentmindedly roll the wedding band Scott slipped on her finger less than six months ago. “But at least have some fun?”

Lydia sighed, her heart drumming steadily against her ribcage as she entertained the prospect of having ‘fun’ with Stiles Stilinski.

“I’ll think about it,” she accepted finally.

“I bet you will.”

* * *

It took her three days to work up the courage to go back to the store, and in the end it was Mr. Jenner, ironically, who prompted her to go.

She made sure to go after work this time, right around closing time. She didn’t want to chance anyone interrupting them in the off chance that someone actually visited the store with the intension of buying something.

“You came back,” he said, visibly shocked as he watched her cross the threshold and firmly close the door behind her. He carelessly dropped his tablet on the counter. It landed with a clang and he winced, tearing his eyes from her and fumbling with his hands to check it wasn’t broken.

Seeing him so obviously nervous made her feel infinitely better. She wasn’t quite sure what she’d been expecting, but finding him to be so endearingly clumsy put her at ease instantly.

“You doubted I would?” Lydia asked as she approached him.

“Well that depends,” he sighed, eyeing her warily. “Are you suing me for harassment? Because I totally get why you would. I was way out of line with the book and the clamps and I apologize, really I do.”

Lydia hummed, resting her soft pink leather bag on the counter and extracting a black folder from it with precise movements. She handed it to Stiles, seeing his face fall. Silly man probably thought she was serving him with a lawsuit.

He opened the folder and his whole face lit up.

“Are these…?” he gasped, glancing at her briefly before gluing his eyes to the contents of the folder.

“A present from Mr. Jenner, as thank you for your cooperation and discretion,” she smiled watching him grin at the three eight by ten black and white pictures.

She had to admit that they were good. More than good if she was honest. They weren’t vulgar or pornographic as she’d feared at first. In fact, they were incredibly tasteful and sexy, showing the intimacy between the artist and the subject and the radiating love they felt for one another.

“I thought you said he wouldn’t be interested in selling.”

“He changed his tune when I told him how enamored you were with Mrs. Jenner’s talent. And he doesn’t want money for them,” she clarified. “They’re a gift.”

“I’ll have to call and thank him. And you.”

Lydia licked her lips. “Well since I already finished the book you gave me perhaps you can show your appreciation by recommending another one?”

“You already finished it?”

“It was riveting,” Lydia shrugged. Never mind that she could read 5000 words per minute and finished the whole thing in a sitting. He didn’t need to know that right now.

He smirked, dropped his face forward and scratched the short bristles along his jawline. “And did you find it instructive?”

Lydia pursed her lips, her hear skipping a beat when she saw his eyes automatically fall to her plump lips and his amber eyes darken noticeably. She tapped her chin with her perfectly manicured forefinger, making a show of considering the matter. “It had its finer points,” she finally said.

He bit the inside of his cheek, rounded the counter to stand by her side, hip propped on it and arms crossed over his frankly impressive chest, his hands tucked close under his armpits. “Did you um, happen to put those instructions to practice?”

“I did. The results were stellar too,” she admitted freely, her body tingling with anticipation. She’d never been this forward with anyone before or revealed such intimate details of her life, but if she was being honest with herself the rush of adrenaline and the rapid tattoo of her heartbeat were all indications that she was, in fact, enjoying it. “The jewelry though I’m afraid I’m on the fence with. They’re beautiful, but they don’t’ hold much appeal to me.”

“Ah, see but a partner is advisable when using them. You can’t fully appreciate their effectiveness alone I’m afraid.”

Lydia hummed. “Sadly I don’t have one. I do recall a certain note from you offering your assistance?”

“Happy to,” Stiles rasped, suddenly stepping forward and invading her personal space.

Lydia took a shaky breath, putting no resistance when his large hands gripped her hips and he gently tugged her closer. Her hands flattened on his firm chest, head tipping back to look at him. She licked her lips in anticipation, parting them with a soft gasp when he leaned in and his mouth brushed hers.

She lifted on her tiptoes, sliding her hands higher to his shoulders and pressing closer to him. He took her mouth with the kind of expertise she’d only read about in novels, lips softly moving over hers with determination, his tongue teasing and his teeth pulling at her bottom lip. All coherent thought flew out of her head, leaving her panting against his mouth, drunk and needy for more of him.

Her body responded to his sensual assault. Her knees shook and a weight settled low in her belly, tingling up to her breasts.

“I never do this,” Lydia whispered, tearing her lips away from his to take in a much needed gulp of air.

Stiles cupped her cheek. He was quite agitated as well, she was pleased to note. His eyes had darkened impossibly, glowing like heated coals. Their gazed held and locked, the soothing touch of his fingers filling her with a strange combination of arousal and calm. “Me neither. It’s actually been a while since I’ve – ” he shrugged sheepishly.

Lydia fingered the ball chain around his neck, gently tugging it free on his shirt and leaving the dog tags to innocently rest against the material. “How long have you been back?”

He swallowed. “A little over seven months.” He grabbed her hand and softly brought it from his neck to the side of his head a few inches above his ear, pressing her fingers to a particular spot hidden by hair. She traced the cluster of scar tissue there. “I took some shrapnel here. It messed up my hand eye coordination and depth perception which is kind of a big deal when you’re a sniper. It’s actually how I got started making jewelry, it was part of my rehab when I got stateside.”

“And the shop?” Lydia asked, taking his meaning and steering away from the topic of his deployment.

“Hum,” his Adam’s apple bobbed up and down nervously as his gaze flittered away from hers. “A body of mine and me always used to joke we’d open a sex shop when we finished our tour.”

Her stomach dropped. She didn’t ask where his friend was, why he wasn’t there at the store with him. She doubted he would respond with a neat tale of how he was a silent partner and he was safely tucked away somewhere happy while Stiles run the store day to day.

“He didn’t make it,” Stiles said needlessly. Lydia nodded and dropped her eyes.

“What was his name?”

“Isaac.”

“I’m sorry he’s gone,” she said, feeling like a failure for not knowing how to properly show him she sympathized with him. She suspected he didn’t often talk about his friend, and was glad that he’d opened up to her when he basically didn’t know her. She only wished there was something she could do say to make him feel better.

“Yeah,” Stiles smiled sadly and hugged her a little closer. “If I haven’t completely killed the mood yet, would you like to have dinner with me tonight?”

“An official date with the town’s scoundrel?” she teased, easing back comfortably to the teasing they’d established before getting heavy with his history. “What will people think?”

“That I’m corrupting you, probably,” he smirked.

Lydia licked her lips. “What about the nooses? I believe I am owed a demonstration of their effectiveness.”

“I can do both,” he rasped.

Lydia considered her situation, wondering if maybe she’d taken things too far, too fast. What he suggested was clear out of her comfort zone… but then again her comfort zone was quite boring and lonely.

“Okay,” she accepted easily. The way his grin lit up his whole face was worth the chance she was taking here. “They’re in my purse.”

He found them and left them resting on the glass beside her, never putting any distance between them.

“May I?” he shot her a quick glance before slowly unbuttoning her blouse until he reached the high waistline of her skirt.

He inhaled sharply, eyes trained on the mounts of her generous breasts covered in dark lace. His fingers traced the cups and Lydia gasped, feeling electricity trail in the wake of his reverent touch. Stiles’ fingers slipped beneath the delicate material and brought the cups down and folded them on the underside of her breasts, making them spill over the fabric and her pointy nipples pop up, instantly becoming rigid in contact with the cool air.

Stiles cupped her jaw, his thumb coasting to rub at the smeared lipstick right under her lower lip. Lydia raised heavy lidded eyes to his, bright as emeralds and alight with passion.

“You’re beautiful,” he whispered, a breath away from her lips, as his fingers ghosted up and down her ribcage.

He reached higher, touched the pad of his finger to her rosy nipple, trapping the point between his thumb and forefinger. The look of concentration in his face gave Lydia pause. He looked fascinated.

He rolled her nipple, feeling it rapidly stiffen. Lydia moaned as he carefully studied his handiwork, flicking the hard peak with his short nail, pulling and rolling, and starting once again until he was convinced it was enough. Lydia could barely hold still. Her knees buckled beneath her and the steady beat between her thighs wouldn’t be assuaged no matter how hard she pressed them together.

Stiles found the nooses where he’d left them on the counter. Keeping her nipple pinched between his fingers, he slipped it through the noose and gently secured it by rolling the gold beads up. Lydia worried, feeling the pressure trapping her sensitive peak grow until it was nearly intolerable. She broke out in goose bumps.

“Don’t worry,” he said, his voice harsher than it’d sounded before. “They’re tight enough to keep them from falling off without cutting circulation,” he assured her, gently pulling on the red stone at the end of noose. Lydia moaned, feeling the tug all the way down to her pussy. “I want them to stay on for a long while, but I don’t want to hurt you.”

He repeated the process with her other nipple and Lydia grew increasingly more aroused to the point where she was scrambling her brains to remember if she had a spare pair of panties in her car because the ones she was wearing were positively _ruined_ and she was not fit to go out in public in such state.

The gold beads and the red stones dangled pulling down the softly captured peaks. Stiles played with them for a bit, gently flicking them and pulling on them.

“See these hooks here?” he lifted the gold strand and showed her a metal loop hidden by the red stone. “They’re for attaching weights.”

She hoped he wasn’t suggesting they tried incorporating the weights right now. Her nipples were firmly trapped, pulsing almost unbearably with pleasure. She didn’t think she could handle more weight than the occasional tug of his fingers.

He didn’t push the matter further and she was grateful. Lydia’s breathing stuttered, her intimate flesh pulsing with every tug and pull. She’d never believed it possible but she was embarrassingly close to climaxing from nipple stimulation alone. She knew if he were to slip his hand under the hem of her skirt and brush his fingers even slightly over her swollen folds she would come right there and then, shaking in her Mary Janes.

Her back arched, pushing her chest closer to him as she surrendered to his tormenting attentions. Suddenly Stiles dipped his head and captured her left nipple in his mouth. Lydia groaned when he pinched her nipple between his fingertips and concentrated all his oral efforts on the other one.

She’d never experienced anything quite like this. The edge of the glass counter bit into her palms as she held on with a white-knuckled grip. Waves of heat washed over her, every nerve ending in her body burning with need. She couldn’t recognize the sounds she was making, a litany of gasps and moans and whimpers that tore from her lips without her permission. Stiles seemed to revel in every sound, groaning and digging his fingers on her hip, pushing her core closer to his crotch.

The friction was driving her crazy, stoking the flames of her passions to heights she never knew herself possible of, but not enough to finally push her over the cliff. Down below, her clit pulsed almost painfully and the temptation to beg him to touch her more firmly, there, was nearly impossible to deny.

“So I hear there’s an Italian place not far from here that’s pretty decent,” Stiles said, his breath ghosting over her flushed skin.

Smacking a last kiss on the hollow between her breasts he pulled away from her and deftly buttoned up her shirt.

She blinked at him. “Huh?”

“I thought we were going to dinner?” he smirked.

“Now?” she whined, horrified by the notion of going without satisfaction for however long dinner lasted.

“I’m starving.”

Lydia melted when he kissed her, threading her fingers through his hair and pulling him close. He nibbled on her bottom lip, wrapped his strong arms around her midsection and sneaking his hands over the firm globes of her ass.

“Or we could order in,” he suggested against her lips.

Lydia nodded enthusiastically. “Let’s do that.”

He dragged her to the backroom, their heavy breathing mixed and echoing in the empty store.

She became well acquainted with the weights after all. And much, much more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well! Thank you all for your continued support for everything I write, I hope you liked this little AU. I know it's way, way ooc but that was kind of the point I guess? Anyway, it was really fun to write this and thankfully I managed to post the whole thing before stydiaweek ended XD
> 
> Let me know your thoughts! I love hearing from you!

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know how you liked it!


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